


The Black Sound of Dead Rivers

by platinum_firebird



Category: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, Female Cal Kestis, Force Visions, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinogens, Psychological Horror, Rule 63, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25408867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platinum_firebird/pseuds/platinum_firebird
Summary: A mission to recover supplies from an abandoned Republic medical station takes a turn when Merrin begins to see visions of Ilyana, and of Dathomir.
Relationships: Cal Kestis/Merrin, Merrin/Ilyana
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23
Collections: Multifandom Horror Exchange (2020)





	The Black Sound of Dead Rivers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JosivChrisma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JosivChrisma/gifts).



Secretly, Merrin had feared her bond with Dathomir would fade, the further she got from the planet. She had wanted so desperately to leave the planet behind, but she could not imagine losing her connection to her sisters, or the magick that had flowed through her veins since the day she first drew breath.

But she needn’t have worried. No matter where they go in the galaxy, no matter how far from Dathomir they fly, Merrin retains that link, and her powers come forth to her call as easily as ever.

And no matter how far they go, she still sees Ilyana in her dreams.

Tonight when the dream begins they are kneeling across from each other on the dusty ground, the red, towering rock spires of Dathomir rising all around them. Ilyana watches her with calm, sad eyes, and in the distance Merrin hears a chirodactyl call, harsh and lonely through the still air.

“I see you every night,” Merrin says to her, forcing the words through the thickness in her throat. “But nothing has changed. I have not forgotten Dathomir. I _will never_ forget.”

Soft wind whistles across dead stone, and Ilyana nods slowly. “Good,” she says, “Because Dathomir will never forget you.”

*

Merrin always expects to wake from such dreams in a cold sweat, as if waking from a nightmare, but she never does. She cannot, she supposes, call the dreams nightmares; not when they are dreams of home.

The lights are down in her cabin and out in the hall, so it must still be the middle of the ship’s night cycle. Since they only have two cabins and Cal’s little camp bed in the engine room, they’ve taken to sleeping in shifts, with one person always awake. It’s a safety precaution as much as a practicality, and knowing someone is always up in the cockpit, ready to respond to whatever comes their way, makes it a little easier to force herself to close her eyes and rest. She likes that she never knows what’s going to come next with the Mantis crew, but being constantly on high alert makes it hard to settle down and sleep.

Cal is the one up in the cockpit, her feet propped up on the dash in a way that would make Greez squawk. She’s fiddling with the datapad in her hands, but looks up when Merrin comes close. “Can’t sleep?”

“It’s my turn for watch,” Merrin says.

“It’s your turn for watch in…” Cal checks the chrono. “Thirty minutes.”

“Then I’m early,” Merrin says, giving Cal a look.

Cal just looks back, for a second, and Merrin can’t tell what she’s thinking. Then she shrugs and lifts herself gracefully out of the co-pilot’s chair. “Well, more sleep for me,” she says.

 _And you need it_ , Merrin doesn’t say, but she may as well have done, because Cal seems to know exactly what she’s thinking. She makes a face, but Merrin knows Cal has almost as many nightmares as she does, so. She’s right.

When Cal is gone, Merrin takes her seat in the co-pilot’s chair slowly, letting her body sink into the plush leather. It’s still new and odd, this luxury, this softness, something that isn’t the cold dead caves and rough harsh stone of Dathomir. Merrin still doesn’t know what any of the buttons do or what any of the flashing lights indicate, but she runs her hands gently over the consoles anyway, as if she can feel the current of electricity flowing underneath. She imagines it as rivers of bright, glowing light, coursing through the veins of the ship; a bright, eye-searing mirror of the way her own magick runs through her, when called.

She doesn’t bother with a datapad; instead she stares out at the twisting, swirling blues and whites of hyperspace, falling almost into one of the meditative trances Cal uses as she lets the images rush past. It’s relaxing and peaceful - at least until Greez comes to relieve her on watch duty, breaking into her thoughts with some quip about people who stare out the viewport too long going crazy with hyperspace madness.

Merrin tries to rest again, but sleep is not so easy to find a second time. She lies there for maybe an hour before giving up. It will be morning soon - or at least ship’s morning - and Cal and Cere will appreciate waking up to a meal, much as Greez will appreciate a cup of caf right now.

Something in the cockpit begins to let out quiet pinging noises just as Greez is uneasily accepting the cup of caf from her. “What does that mean?” she asks, turning to stare at it.

“Means we’re an hour out from our destination,” Greez says. “Cere will be up on time, but you better go poke Cal awake.”

“I’m sure the smell of cooking nerf bacon will entice her,” Merrin says as she walks back to the galley.

“Remember I like mine with hirahce sauce!” Greez calls after her.

The smell of breakfast does indeed draw out a bleary-eyed Cal, and by the time they’ve all scarfed down a quick breakfast and checked their clothes and weapons, the realspace reversion alarm is pinging insistently.

“So,” Cere says, as they gather at the front of the ship, “Here’s what we’re looking at.”

Merrin feels a by-now familiar, slightly sickening jolt, and the blue swirls of hyperspace give way to a field of bright stars. Floating out in the distance, still quite a distance away from the _Mantis_ but just about visible, is what looks like some kind of space station. When Cere presses a button on the holotable, an identical image pops up. “This used to be a Republic Medical Centre. It was abandoned for fear that the Separatists would attack it, but in the end they never came. As far as we can tell, the Empire never reclaimed the station, so there should be supplies still on board.”

“Unless pirates have raided it already,” Greez says from the pilot’s seat.

“Unless that, yes,” Cere says, giving him a look.

“What kind of condition is it in?” Cal asks.

“The Grand Army left in a hurry, so the station was still in working order when the Republic retreated. Our contact said some parts of the station have fallen into disrepair, but most of it should be passable.”

“So we get in, see if we can find medical supplies, and get out?” Merrin asks.

“Exactly.” Cere presses a few buttons, and certain parts of the station light up red. “These areas were storage, so they’re the best bet. If you two go in, Greez and I will wait here, ready to assist.”

Cal exchanges a look with Merrin, and they both nod. “Then let’s do it,” Cal says.

*

The airlock door opens with a hiss onto complete darkness. A smell wafts out, metallic and stale; Merrin shoots a look at Cal.

“Ready?” Cal asks.

 _You can’t turn away simply because it’s dark_ , Merrin tells herself, ignoring the feeling of unease roiling in her gut. “Let’s go,” she says, motioning Cal in front of her.

Cal goes first, her bright blue lightsaber blade illuminating the darkness like a beacon. The station’s corridors are plain, featureless smooth metal, and the smell of stale air grows stronger as they turn down a corridor and the light from the _Mantis’_ docking tube disappears behind them. It’s not only the air that smells lifeless and wrong; Merrin can feel nothing here, a yawning void of emptiness in this place that was made for life. For a sickening moment, it reminds her of the Nightsister’s village on Dathomir.

Cere gave her a flashlight before they left the _Mantis_ , and Merrin can’t tame the impulse to keep looking behind them, swinging the beam of light around to illuminate the corridors they’ve just come through. It’s sensible, she tells herself, even though there should be nothing alive on this station - even though she can _feel_ nothing in these silent, empty corridors.

Cal doesn’t seem as affected as she is, though Merrin can still see the tension in her shoulders, hear it in her voice when she curses under her breath, trying to align their path with her holomap. The station is dead now, but Merrin can feel the weight of the memories here, sense the impression that the living, breathing people who once occupied this station left in the Force. With her abilities, it must be even worse for Cal.

There is no sound on the station, aside from their footsteps; there’s nothing else alive or functioning that should be able to make any sound. This is why, perhaps, it takes a long minute for Merrin to believe that what she’s hearing is real.

She turns, scanning the corridor behind her, and for a moment thinks she sees a glint in one of the side corridors, like the flash of light off water. “Cal,” she hisses, dropping into a fighting stance instinctively.

Cal is back at her side in a second. “What?”

“Don’t you hear that?”

For a moment Cal says nothing; then, carefully, she whispers, “What?”

“Running water.” Merrin can hear it, just faintly but clear; rushing water, as if a lot of it is moving through a fairly narrow channel. “The station’s water tanks should have run dry years ago.”

Cal doesn’t answer, and when Merrin looks at her, the expression on her face is one of deep concern. “Merrin,” she says, “I don’t hear anything.”

Merrin frowns, focuses, but the sound doesn’t go away. When she sweeps the corridor in front of them with her flashlight again, she catches the glint of water, and she steps forward. Cal moves as if to stop her, but then thinks better of it, instead following her to the junction where the two corridors meet.

The moment she turns her flashlight on the new corridor, she can see that the floor is dry. “The sound is gone,” she says, frowning.

“Maybe it was a Force echo,” Cal says.

Merrin nods, because that’s the only thing that makes sense. There’s no way there could be water here. “It must have been,” she says, and they move on.

It’s paranoia, Merrin thinks, that makes her feel like this. Paranoia, and the weight of the collected lives lived and lost here, the build-up of memories. The Force still rings with the impressions left by the staff and soldiers who abandoned this place years ago - that’s why it feels like they’re not alone.

“The storage room should be only another two levels down now,” Cal says while they pause to check the holomap. Merrin hardly hears her, because that sound has started up again, just on the edge of her hearing. _It’s a Force echo_ , she tells herself, over and over, but some deep, primal part of her mind is not convinced.

“Merrin?”

“It’s nothing,” Merrin says, turning to face Cal.

Cal is regarding her warily. “You sure?”

“I can-” Merrin bites her tongue, aware how ridiculous this sounds. “It’s just the Force echo. Again.”

“Running water? You still hear it?”

“It’s nothing,” Merrin insists. “Just a Force echo. Like you said.”

“Right.” Cal doesn’t look quite convinced, but she doesn’t question her. The sound fades again as they walk, and they make it down to the door of the storage room without any more incidents.

The station’s storage room is huge, with it’s own dedicated offloading bay and entrance for starships. If they could find some way to get the blast doors open, then the _Mantis_ could fly right in and pick up whatever supplies might remain with incredible ease.

First, of course, they have to get the doors into the storage room open. They’re thick, blast-proof double doors, and it’s immediately obvious that no amount of physical effort from either of them will shift them even an inch. Cal has a go with her Force powers anyway, but the doors stay resolutely shut. “Okay,” she says, stepping back, still a little out of breath from the effort. “We’re gonna need that power on.”

“I’m guessing we can’t power this with the _Mantis_ like we did for the airlock door,” Merrin says.

“No. We’ll need to see if the main generator can be brought back online. If they really left in a hurry, then maybe they left enough fuel cells to keep it running for a little bit.” Cal keys her comm, and calls back to the ship. “Guys, can you give us a path to the main generator room? We’ll need power to get into Storage.”

After a moment Cere says, “Looks like there’s two generators, main and back-up. It would be quicker to take one each, if you’re willing - just in case one doesn’t work.”

The thought of wandering the station’s hallways alone sends a jolt of fear through Merrin’s stomach, but she nods anyway. The station is empty; there is nothing here to make her scared.

Cal looks uneasy for a second before agreeing, and Cere uploads different paths onto both of their comms. “Be careful,” she warns, “Some areas of the station are open to vacuum. They’re all sealed off with blast doors, but be sure to check indicator lights before you go opening any doors.”

“Will do,” Cal says, and she closes the comm channel.

Merrin can see that Cal wants to say something, but if she’s going, she needs to go now, before her resolve fails her. “Keep in touch,” she says, tapping the comm on her wrist; then she turns away and starts walking.

“Keep safe!” Cal calls after her, and Merrin lifts a hand in acknowledgement. Not that there’s anything to keep safe from; her route shouldn’t take her anywhere near any of the damaged areas.

She walks for a long time without encountering anything besides the blank, smooth walls and twisting layout of corridors. The station is huge, and time seems to elongate and stretch as she walks, her footsteps echoing around the silent halls. She keenly misses the glow of Cal’s lightsaber, and the sound of footsteps walking alongside hers.

The sound she hears this time isn’t running water, but it is constant; a rhythmic, repeated thumping. It’s quiet at first, but it grows louder as she walks further. Her whole body is tense from the second she first hears it. It sounds mechanical, the repetition precise and cyclical. It doesn’t make sense, of course; nothing on the station should have power. But still the sound grows louder, until Merrin comes to a junction. Down the left hand corridor she can hear the thumping, repeating and echoing, promising answers if she follows it. The bright path of light on her holomap, though, points her down the right hand corridor.

For a second Merrin hesitates, biting her lip. Cal, she reasons, is already making her way to the main generator, which should still work; they’ll only need Merrin and the back-up if something goes wrong there. And this noise, whatever it is, surely merits further investigation.

Decision made, she turns down the left hand corridor.

The noise gets louder and louder, and she begins to hear mechanical wheezes and hisses along with it. Merrin creeps on silent feet, dropped into a half-crouch, and leans carefully around the corner into what she thinks must be the corridor the sound emanates from.

Inexplicably, halfway along the corridor, one of the blast doors is repeatedly opening and shutting, sliding back and forth in it’s frame.

Merrin watches it for a moment, frowning. There’s no power on the station. She’s not well-versed in mechanics and electrical engineering, not by a long shot, but she does know that without power, there should be no way for that door to move. Hesitantly, with her hand white-knuckled around the stock of her blaster, she moves forward into the corridor.

The movement of the door doesn’t change the closer she gets. There’s a light on the controls that’s glowing green, uselessly indicating that atmosphere and pressure exist beyond the blast door. _It would be pretty obvious if there were vacuum on the other side,_ Merrin thought, watching the door slide back and forth. How was it doing that?

As the door opens, the beam of her flashlight catches on something in the corridor beyond - a brief snatch of red. Merrin jumps, focusing the flashlight, but the door slides closed again. She levels her blaster, supporting it with both hands and steadying the beam of the flashlight.

When the door opens this time, the flash of red is visible just at the end of the corridor - red cloth, black boots, white hair. A flash of a familiar, haunting face, for just a second in the light.

“Ilyana!” Merrin shouts, shock striking her chest like a hammer blow; a second later she’s gone, the door closed again.

Merrin doesn’t take even a second to think before moving, gripping the crystal in her pocket and teleporting in a swirl of green light to the other side of the door.

Footsteps, running. Merrin follows, her heart beating hard enough to burst out of her chest. Ilyana is dead - Merrin knows, watched them kill her, wrapped her body in silks and interred her in a burial pod with her own hands - but she’s _here_ , now. Merrin can hear the metallic pinging of her running footsteps as she retreats down the hall. “Ilyana!” Merrin calls again, but there’s no response.

The walls are the same featureless grey here beyond the door, but it’s hotter, somehow, and there’s a strange, acrid smell in Merrin’s nose and an acidic taste in her mouth. She runs on anyway, chasing that flash of red that just barely appears in the beam of her flashlight, and suddenly the smell changes. Thickens. The heat closes in around her, muggy and oppressive, and when she turns the next corner, her feet hit stone rather than metal.

She’s on Dathomir.

There’s no mistaking it. The thick, unpleasant smell of the swamps fills her nose, the heat lying like a cloying blanket on her skin. She’s not in the safe, familiar village of her childhood, but further down, in the dangerous, stinking swamps to which she once consigned Cal, back when they were still enemies.

She hears the low, rumbling growl of a nydak, behind her, far too close for comfort. Claws scrape against rock, but Merrin doesn’t wait to find out if the nydak is friend or foe. She runs, splashing up to her ankles in the thick, putrid swamp water.

She’s been in the swamps before, of course - survived here as a child, watched over by adults eager to see if she would succeed or fail, and later completed trials she set for herself, when there was no one left to teach her. She _knows_ these swamps. Now, though, nothing looks familiar, and the water around her legs climbs higher as she scrambles to get her bearings.

The nydak follows close behind, growling and snarling as it’s huge form splashes through the water. Merrin pushes herself, turning to try and find higher ground, but the water continues to rise. She shouts Ilyana’s name, but the only answer is a roar from the nydak behind her. The water is up to her thighs.

She presses on, breath sawing in and out of her lungs. Faintly at first but growing steadily stronger, she feels a current tugging at her legs. She sloshes through the water, moving behind plants and outcroppings of rock to break the nydak’s line of sight on her. The water rises, the current picking up in power, and Merrin realises that she’s being channelled in one direction, towards wherever the current now flowing quickly around her legs is going. The nydak roars again, further behind, and Merrin allows herself to think she might have lost it.

By the time the water is up around her waist the current is strong, strong enough that it threatens to take her off her feet. She rounds another stand of rocks and sees a towering rockface before her, blocking her path. Near the bottom is a wide, yawning black hole, into which all the water seems to be flowing.

It seems only natural, somehow, to surrender herself to the current.

She floats towards the hole in the rockface, her head still above the surface right up until she enters the wide black portal. Something wraps around her ankle, and Merrin slips under the dark water.

The water is dark, but she can see green lights in the distance, bright through the murk. They draw closer, crowding around her like moths to a flame, and she can see they are eyes, the eyes of her dead sisters. They curl around her as she floats there in the water, one living girl among a maelstrom of bone and undead flesh, feeling their skeletal fingers brush her face. It would be horrifying, to anyone else, she’s aware of that now; but to her it is a comfort, if a cold one. Even in death, her sisters are with her.

Merrin closes her eyes, and opens them to find herself breaking through the surface of the water.

She’s not in a cave anymore. Instead, she’s floating in the middle of a small river that runs through a thick, dense jungle, moving swiftly along with it’s current. The air is warm, full of the smells of damp soil and the cries of many animals. The flora’s colour varies from deep burgundy to bright crimson, matching the endless red sky above.

Merrin pulls herself out of the river using an overhanging vine. When she turns to sit down and catch her breath, she sees Ilyana on the other bank, watching her.

“What is this place?” Merrin asks.

“Dathomir,” Ilyana says simply. “The Dathomir of old.” Her lips pull into a sad smile. “Our planet was dying long before the Jedi came, Merrin. Once, there were thick forests and flowing rivers.”

“Now all the rivers are dry,” Merrin says, staring down at the water. The sound of flowing, rushing water is the same as that which haunted her…before. She’s not sure when. Merrin closes her eyes, pressing the fingers of both hands to her temples. Her head aches, and her memory feels fuzzy. “Ilyana,” she says, “This place is beautiful. Can’t I stay here? With you?”

Ilyana reaches out a hand. “You can stay here forever,” she says, “All you must do is cross the river.”

It sounds so easy. Merrin pulls herself up to her feet, her eyes latching onto Ilyana’s outstretched hand. “Just cross the river?” Merrin asks, looking down into the dark water. That shouldn’t be so hard; the river isn’t very wide.

“Just cross the river,” Ilyana says, stretching out her hand.

There’s something glinting in the water. No- something flashing. Merrin narrows her eyes, squinting at it. Something red and flashing. It stirs an unease in the pit of her stomach, a sense of danger, though she cannot work out from what. What could be threatening about her home? What risk could stepping over the river and into Ilyana’s arms pose?

She takes a step toward the edge, her boot almost touching the water.

Distantly, she thinks she hears a voice call her name. When she looks over her shoulder, she sees only thick jungle.

“You must make the choice,” Ilyana says, her voice grave. “Is this really what you want?”

Merrin looks back at her, frowning. “Ilyana you know I wanted- I thought that, when we were older-”

“So did I,” Ilyana says, and Merrin again hears someone calling her name, louder now. She looks around, but there’s no one else in sight. “We could still be together, Merrin,” Ilyana continues, “But I won’t begrudge you the choice, if you want to stay.”

“I…” Merrin hesitates, looks down at the water. That light is still there, flashing red and bright deep beneath the water. What does it mean?

“I wish I could have stayed with you,” Ilyana says, and when Merrin looks up, there are tears on Ilyana’s face.

Merrin opens her mouth to speak, but she has no time. She hears a voice, loud and clear now, call her name - Cal’s voice. A second later, it feels like an invisible hand grabs the back of her shirt and _yanks_.

Merrin goes flying backward, and blacks out.

*

When she wakes, she doesn’t know if it’s hours or minutes later. Her head feels thick and fuzzy; there’s something covering her face. She’s lying on hard, cold metal.

She opens her eyes to see Cal staring down at her, her face pinched with worry. She’s wearing a gas mask across her nose and mouth, so it stands to reason that’s what Merrin can feel against her own face. “What happened?” she asks, her voice rough and cracked.

“Bontaoodi gas,” Cal says. “Hallucinations. You were going to-” She cuts herself off, and glances upward.

Merrin follows her gaze, and realises they’re on the ground beside a blast door. The light on the controls is blinking red - the light that indicates that beyond the blast door is vacuum. The same light she saw in the river.

“I was going to open the blast door,” Merrin says, as everything falls heavily into place.

Cal nods. “Cere and Greez saw you’d gone off course, but you didn’t respond, so they did a scan and found the gas. It occurs naturally when bacta and certain other medical chemicals mix; it’s in the atmosphere of the whole station, but it’s particularly strong down here, on the route you were taking.”

“And you saved me.”

Cal smiles weakly. “Of course. Are you alright?”

Merrin’s throat feels like it’s been scoured, her head is throbbing, and her chest is heavy with pain and grief. “I will survive,” she says, because that is always the one thing she can say with absolute honesty. “But I don’t think I can fiddle with generators in this state. Can you handle it?”

“I’ll get it,” Cal says, “First, let’s get you back to the _Mantis_.”

Merrin barely remembers the trip back, too consumed with the pain in her head and the black rot of grief eating at her heart. Cal hands her off to Cere at the airlock, who helps her get to a bed and lie down. Cere gives her a shot to counteract the effects of the gas, and Merrin falls gratefully into a deep, dark sleep.

*

When she wakes, slightly dazed and groggy, she finds Cal sitting on the bed, watching her. “Did you get the generator working?” she asks, her voice thick with sleep.

Cal nods. “There are a good amount of supplies left over. We’ve got some, but Cere’s sent Saw a message so he can come get the rest.”

“Good,” Merrin says, closing her eyes again. At least the pain in her head wasn’t for nothing.

She feels Cal’s hand on her shoulder. “Are you feeling any better?”

“No,” Merrin says honestly, “But it will heal with time.” Whether she’s talking about just her physical pain, she doesn’t know, and now doesn’t feel like the time to examine it.

“Okay. Just… we’re here. If you need us. I’m here.”

When Merrin opens her eyes, Cal is looking at her with this soft, gentle expression that sparks a jolt of recognition in her. She doesn’t think Cal is talking solely about providing for her physical needs, or having a friendly chat - because she’s seen someone look at her like that before, and that person was Ilyana.

It’s… not an entirely unwelcome thought, she realises. Because it’s Cal. Because she likes Cal. She and Cal understand each other.

But it’s not something she’s prepared to explore right now, not when all the wounds Ilyana left behind have been so recently cracked and split open. She needs time alone to process what happened in her hallucination, the hallucination that felt more like a message from the dead, a communication through the Force. She needs a little time to heal.

But maybe. Some day soon.

“Thank you,” she says, and for a moment, their hands intertwine.

*

Tonight when the dream begins, they are high on a promontory, overlooking Dathomir’s bleak landscape.

“Where is it?” Merrin asks. “The river. The jungle.”

Ilyana points, and when Merrin follows the line of her finger, she can make out the winding trail of discoloured dirt where the river must once have been. “There is no trace of the forest,” Ilyana says.

“It all died,” Merrin says, sadness heavy in her chest.

“Everything has it’s time to die, Merrin. Individuals, peoples, even planets.” Ilyana glances at her. “I am glad, though, that you did not join us.”

“I wish I could be with you,” Merrin says. “But I am also glad. I do not want to give up this life just yet.”

“No. You deserve more than death.” Ilyana gestures to where they stand. “More than this planet could give you.”

“Maybe. But I will carry her in my heart, always. Dathomir is with me wherever I go.”

“As it will always be,” Ilyana murmurs.

Merrin looks up to the sky, painted in bold shades of red and burnt orange. She hears the low, sad moan of the wind through the empty spaces of the village, as dead and hollow and heavy with remembered life as the silent, still halls of the forgotten space station. Dathomir will always be with her, but there is no space among the dead for the living; there is too much death here for the balance to be evened out by one life.

“I will see you again, one day,” Merrin promises Ilyana.

“One day.” Ilyana steps forward, and presses a kiss to her forehead. “And we will always be waiting for your return.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
